


Can't See The Forests For The Trees

by viriongrove



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Breaking Dawn, F/M, Romance, Vampires, eclipse - Freeform, new moon, twilight - Freeform, twilight saga - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25796353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viriongrove/pseuds/viriongrove
Summary: Jasper Whitlock is a psychology student and artist. Moving from London to Mississippi, he moves in next door to a peculiar young girl named Mary-Alice Brandon, who is a visionary in more ways than she could ever imagine.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale
Kudos: 4





	1. Half Sick of Shadows

Heavy rain slammed against the cold windshield of the cab as it pulled into a residential neighborhood. The vampire sitting comfortably in the backseat watched the raindrops race each other on the backseat window. Outside the window he saw the quaint area with white picket fences, tire swings, and good American values. Every house built by ancestors of those who reside within them. Generations taking pride in the walls infused with the blood and sweat of their family. There was nothing better than crafting something with your bare hands to pass down to your next of kin. Everyone had a connection to their family tree thanks to these homes.

Except for Jasper Whitlock, the stranger to all bought an empty property from out of state. The house had been sitting vacant ever since a bitter divorce. She moved off to New York while he went to Texas, neither of them wanted the property due to the memories tied to it. The neighbors awaited his arrival. Gossip was already spreading faster than a wildfire. Why would this man, from another country, purchase a home in their small town neighborhood? Surely he wouldn't be living in it. He would rent it out to some big-shot city businessman who would force them all out. Their theories were endless.

Everyone around him questioned his values. Buying a house at such a young age while still in school, not even a licensed psychiatrist yet. Jasper had his way of achieving the goals he set out for himself. He hit the road without telling a soul outside of his career path. Jasper never settled in one place too long, he had an ache inside of him to learn and when he discovered all he could he had to chase more. He showed his knowledge in his art, although he was an avid reader, the pictures inside of his head from the ways of written word were more educational than any textbook.

He set his eyes from London to Mississippi, and exactly what you're thinking is what everyone else asked him, "are you crazy?" He always laughed away those questions. His reasoning never had to make sense to anyone but himself. It seemed like his bags were packed within seconds of his announcement. Everything was planned precisely, no stone unturned, and all would go accordingly. He made sure of it. No surprises, no accidents, not possible by the hands of Jasper. He had traveled all over the world, studied different languages, made friends of strangers and lovers of friends, yet the hands of time and the ideology of settling down never came as an option.

The car stopped in a sudden halt, the tires screeched against the slick black roads, almost missing the house. Rainfall and dimmed lights gave it an unnatural aura surrounding it. Off color white paint from what the lightning chose to show in the darkness. Arched windows with no blinds but sheer curtains. The blonde haired beau dug his hands into his pocket and pulled out one dollar as a tip for the driver. The driver couldn't believe his gesture was real, he urged Jasper on keeping it but he declined. Jasper grabbed onto his two bags he insisted on keeping in the backseat with him. He stepped outside the backseat of the vehicle.

The driver waved his hands to grab his attention before he shut the door. "Mr, thank you again." The driver turned his head towards him with his arm on the back of the seat. "Don't mention it." Jasper let out a cheerful laugh. "Drive safe, now!" He pushed the door shut with his hand then tapped it against the hood twice to send the cab off. The driver never responded but Jasper saw his smile through the foggy back window. He didn't mind the rain drenching him, he had dry clean clothes awaiting him in his bags. He watched as the car slowly drove away, turning down the corner at the end of the road.

Jasper stood on the street with each bag held tightly in his hands. He stared up at his new estate. It was too extravagant for anything other than a family. For him it was perfect, he disliked small spaces or feeling confined. Jasper's shoes splashed into small puddles as he walked up to home. The porch was wide yet empty from the previous owners, they must have never had anything on there to begin with. He placed the bags down at his feet with gentle curiosity. He felt something, an undoubtful presence looking. He was being watched. Jasper shot his glaze to the left of him, his eyes trailed up slightly to an upstairs bedroom window. He could almost make it out in the downpour of the rain.

A silhouette, short, small shoulders standing in full view with the curtains peeled back by their own hand. They stood there for a moment, watching, he felt their eyes scan all over his body. Jasper stood up straight, and as soon as his body moved upwards, the figure fell back and pulled the curtains closed behind them. Mortal was all he knew, male or female, it couldn't be detected, only the strong scent of rain surrounded him. Jasper slipped the keys to the house out of his coat pocket, it fit inside the lock with ease, and with a flick of his wrist, the door opened for him as if he commanded it silently.

He picked up both bags with one hand. A sweet aroma of cherries hit him as he took his first steps inside. Flashes of lightning lit up the house in overwhelming fashion. So much to take in with so little time to process it. The house was purchased fully furnished, which was all covered in white sheets to protect it from the fallen dust and dirt from the real estate company coming and going as they pleased. He continued inside the house as the door shut from a push of his foot, the slam was echoed throughout the bare walls inside. Jasper dropped his bag near the staircase and walked into the kitchen. The scent grew stronger.

Paintings were removed from the walls and placed neatly against them on the floor, covered in the same white sheets that covered every other piece of furniture. Nail holes had been covered up with a fresh coat of paint in every corner. Jasper saw the dining room while he stood in the kitchen, he dragged his fingertips along the cold white counter top in the kitchen while his gaze was fixated on a glass bowl placed in the center of the table. Cherries, is what it was, a bowl of fresh cherries that filled the room the closer he got to them. The smell like citrus to a mortal as he reached over the bowl for the folded over card with golden edges.

It was quality white paper, the card had the lingering perfume of the real estate woman who finalized the deal for him. Jasper flipped open the card to see her neat cursive handwriting in black ink inside. "Welcome to your new home, Mr. Whitlock! May it bring you as much happiness as every home should! - Leslie Lennon" Oh, if only the walls could talk. Jasper set the card back down on the table. He grabbed onto the bowl of slightly withered cherries. Such a nice gesture gone to waste on an immortal, they must have sat out all day in the heat of the house and the rays of sunlight creeping in from the open windows.

Jasper took the glass bowl filled with crimson and wine colored cherries with the green stems still attached to the fridge which was entirely empty all together. The dim light of the bulb inside was the only source in that cozy little kitchen space. The door of the fridge shut with the coordination of another shot of lightning. Jasper noticed another thing from the flash. Not inside the home, but outside the view of the window, his neighbors house to the left of him. With the eyes he possessed it was still difficult to make it out from this far. He stepped closer to the window that was beaten down with streaks of cold rain.

The upstairs window, the same one he noticed the silhouette standing moments ago, had bars on the window, bars that were not on the outside but on the inside. Like a scene from old prisons to secure you from escaping outside instead of securing anyone from the outside coming in. None of the windows in his home bore these bars, and none of the other windows upstairs or downstairs on the neighbors house had bars. Another flash of lightning occurred, for the briefest moment he could have sworn movement was visible at that window once again. He had nothing to fear but all to be curious about.

Jasper tore his eyes off the window. He couldn't risk being caught staring into the house of his neighbors, it's not the best first impression for anyone. Jasper walked back into the living room to grab his bags. He wanted to check out the conditions of the upstairs rooms. The stairs moaned out softly under the pressure of his footsteps walking up. He admired the wallpaper freshly plastered on the walls, it was a floral design of red roses with creeping green vines of thorns making their way up the ceiling. Jasper could smell the fresh wood from the repairs as he took the final step to the top.

Every door upstairs was closed, he headed towards the master-bedroom door which opened with a gentle creek like a newborn child. Jasper placed his bags on the queen-size bed, the bedding was made perfectly like a furniture ad. The bed didn't shift as he sat down, the mattress was new and firm to his bottom. He looked around the room slowly. Matching bedside tables that surely held a bible in one of their drawers, if not both. Multiple picture frames off the walls and on the floors as they were downstairs as well.

The bedding was a simple beige color with no design, the fabric was cotton along with the frame itself, although it was made out of fine wood. The wallpaper in this room was splattered with different breeds of horses, all breeds Jasper named inside of his head. Morgan, thoroughbred, shire, American quarter, on and on, these people had taste. Jasper reached his hand inside of his bags, his fingers brushed against the leather cover of his journal. Not to draw the horses on the wall, he already had sketches of those in his old journals.

His fingers wrapped around a dirty brown pencil in the bottom of the bag. He pulled it out with a small smile that grew as he opened the journal to search for a blank page. His hand dusted off the clean page for any old shavings, dust or remnants of the last sketch. With the pencil between his fingers and the journal in his lap, the rain tapping on the window like an old lover coming to visit, his hands moved effortlessly in strokes with his pencil gliding against the paper with ease. Every detail of the house was in his mind like a still photo, his memory poured out of him through the pencil onto any canvas he used.

He sat there for what seemed like hours, sketching every little detail his mind provided of the house. He could be idle for far too long in the eyes of mortal comfort without realizing it. When around other people he made sure to take the precautions of human comfort. Adjusting his body while sitting after a while, pulling on his clothes to straighten them out, yawning as others did on their cue. Being a vampire was almost like living in a play. You had your part as you watched others play theirs, except no one knew each other's roles.

Jasper had that feeling again. He was being watched. He shot his gaze out the window his bed was sitting in front of, he didn't realize he was directly across the window with bars inside. The window a silhouette had watched from as he stood at his front door. It was there again, not any clearer than before, with the curtain pulled back from their hand as it was earlier. Still mortal. Still peering. Jasper stood up from the bed and walked over to ease his eyes, could they even see him in such darkness? Was the lightning giving away his location?

Jasper stared on and the silhouette did not flee this time. A flash of lighting. A full glimpse of the silhouette. A small pale girl with short dark hair, alluring bright eyes he couldn't catch the color of, and an expression of surprise on her delicate little face. Her nightgown almost glowed from the flash. She was gone just as soon as she was revealed in the light. She pulled the curtain back again. Jasper lingered in front of the window, not sure what he was hoping for, possibly another moment to take in her appearance or feel her emotion to understand since he couldn't speak to her. She never appeared again.

Jasper pulled his own window closed and went back to his bed, to his bags, he pulled out his other journal filled with field notes on his studies in psychology. Under that journal were his books for his studies. Understanding the human mind was interesting for more than one reason. Jasper possessed the abilities to sense how mortals felt with just being in their presence, if you were weak enough he could feel it just by glancing at you. Jasper was unsure of what made a weak mind or a strong mind, if these were the results of will or mortal explanations for things they truly don't know.

He placed his books, his journals, onto the shelf that was hanging on the wall. It was a simple structure of only a slab of wood and the metal handles screwed into the wall for support. They fell over slightly but that was alright, it didn't bother him. Jasper emptied his bag onto the blanket. His passport, wallet, mini notebooks, and a fresh outfit fell out of the bag. He spent so much time sketching he forgot his clothes were soaked, as well as the spot on the bed where he was sitting. Jasper shut the curtain as he unbuckled his belt, it fell to the floor as soon as he pulled it out of the loops of his trousers, it soon met the floor as well.

His clean clothing hugged his body, he admired the way the fabric evened out the color in his face, his reflection in the mirror struggled to show him the accurate representation of himself. A gaslight lantern sat on the bedside table. In the pocket of his trousers was a box of matches. He felt them against his skin as his legs slid into them. He reached inside and pulled them out, with one harsh strike the match flourished with an enchanting orange flame. The gaslight was now light, and in the greater illumination Jasper was able to see the blood on the collar of his shirt.

He let out a heavy sigh. He didn't notice the bloodstains or the streaks of dirt on his new attire, surely he would have known better stripping the body of his victim for a new wardrobe on the train. It would do for now until his old clothes were dry, at least they were free of blood. Tomorrow, tomorrow he will have his wardrobe arrive along with the rest of his books. Jasper took most of his trip by boat, it was easier to hide in the ships below deck instead of flying out in a metal contraption with windows filled and mortals at every glance.

He fed well enough to sustain himself for the rest of the night, tomorrow he would need to feed as soon as he rises at sundown. The sun at twilight never harmed a vampire like it does during the midday sun. Tales of vampires reducing to ash as the sun hits their fragile skin was all it was, mere tales. Vampires only reduce to ash if set in flames. When the sun reaches a vampire they have irreversible scars, scars that combat their tales of irresistible beauty. The fear of the sun was a very real thing despite the reasons being clouded. A part of a vampire's charm is the alluring factor of mingling with other humans, which would be hard to do so with a hideously deformed face.

Jasper knew of the sun's twisted vision on vampires, not from warnings of his own kind but from first hand experience. The slender figure always made sure he was dressed in a long sleeve shirt or jacket to protect his deformities on his arms. Jasper closed the curtains on the other side of the room, he went around the house pulling each curtain shut tight despite the sheerness of the fabric. It was better than nothing at all. He would never sleep in the heart of the house from the risk of sunlight meeting through the open glass of the windows. He needed enough coverage to hide his state of living from peering eyes.

Basements were a less common occurrence in the south, and for this reason Jasper would reside in the attic, which he was informed was boarded up entirely due to pesky little squirrels and other unsightly animals you don't want living inside your house. Not a peek from the sun would make it's way into the space above. Jasper pushed the lid of the attic aside, the string to the ladder dangled slowly in front of his face as if it were taunting him. He grabbed the end of it with two fingers. A gentle tug of it lowered the ladder enough to be pulled down. Both hands wrapped around a step, he pulled it down slowly and placed the end on the hardwood floor of the hallway.

The cold air rushed over his lukewarm body. It brought a smile to his face as he walked up each unstable step. The moans of time caressed the walls of the house as it danced around the air like some sort of strange magic. Jasper saw the lightning flashes illuminate the area around him while the attic remained the same depth of comforting darkness. His footsteps sounded heavy as he placed them. Pitch darkness from every inch of space. He reached down to grab the ladder and pull it up back into the attic, it was lighter than he expected without a sound coming from it. He grabbed the square cover from the floor and fit it back into place. Only the sound of deafening rain in the bitter darkness of the upstairs attic now.

It took a few moments for Jasper's eyes to adjust to the darkness, but within it he found the embrace he was looking for since rising. Scattered cobwebs decorated the wooden arches. There were some old withered boxes that felt weightless when he moved them aside with his foot. Jasper walked over to where the window would be in the attic, now covered with wood to keep the creatures at bay, and now the sunlight. His fingertips traced along the rough corners of the harshly cut wood.

His fingers trailed along it, every bump and snag in his skin whipped past it, his hand met one of the few arches that seemed pristine. His finger rubbed against a different texture, something that was carved inside of the wooden support. He could barely make it out in the darkness. "B + M = ♡" A declaration of affection left as a marking forever against the harsh demands of time. A fragile smile formed on his lips, he remembered the days of being young, in love, and participating in his own initial carving.

Jasper sat down under the ghost of the attic window. His back against the wall. He was thinking of London again, for someone whose entire existence depended on never settling down he always found it difficult to depart. All the wonderful faces and friendships he had formed would only ever remain a memory for him as they go onto the next stages of life, whereas Jasper is frozen forever. It wasn't even a matter of his lovers, his enemies, but the humans who never suspected the quality of his soul and only looked into the quality of his heart.

That's what it meant to be alive to Jasper, what it meant to be mortal. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the smooth wood, his ears almost tingling at the intense rain just behind him and simultaneously all around him. He's nothing more than his thoughts now. Until Tomorrow.


	2. The Girl in Leather Chains

Jasper heard a few things as his eyes opened in the darkness. Only a matter of seconds before they adjusted. The rainfall is still going but much lighter than before. A pounding. Not of thunder, but of hands on wood. Mortals. He could smell it already. The aroma was intoxicating like a fine perfume sprayed onto a warm collarbone. His thirst was immense, he needed to feed, last night's conquest was no longer enough.

The pounding on the door never ceased. Each sound grew louder and desperate. Jasper's hands fumbled in the darkness for the lid of the attic, he tossed it aside as soon as his hands brushed against it. The scent was stronger. There was more than one mortal lurking around. Jasper released the ladder without caution, the wooden structure slammed against the ground hard. The knocking on the door continued, if not faster than before.

His hands grasped around each step as he climbed down into the open area of his home. He saw the sun still setting, the darkening rays of sunlight teasing the air like a provocative dance. Silky glimmers of rain falling through the bitter air. The pounding was beginning to ring in Jasper's ear. He moved throughout the house like a feline hunting its prey. He approached the sound. He could make out three figures standing outside his door, the small windows up top provided him with shadowy figures without features. Jasper heard them speak. "He ain't home, we need to get back inside the house." One voice said. "He is home! Cynthia said she never saw him leave the house!" Another replied.

One of the strangers elevated themselves on their tippy toes to peer inside the window, a short gasp came from them. "He's coming." The first voice said. Jasper was seen, he started walking towards the door. His hunger coursed throughout his empty veins. Jasper placed his hand on the knob, he made eye contact with one of the strangers through the window. Instantly he felt their distress, all of them were panicking like wild deer running through the forest. "Mr. Whitlock?" One of them asked, Jasper couldn't pinpoint which voice said it. He opened the door slightly for them, he pressed his face against the crack.

Cold air brushed against his pale skin. The bite of rain sprinkling over him.Jasper grit his teeth out of instinct from their alluring scent. "Mr. Whitlock!" The shortest figure of the three stepped closer, the light from the house on the left illuminated his face. He was a dark skinned man with large brown eyes, either covered in sweat or rain, his emotion didn't make it clear. "My name is Askari Mounir, I live across the street from you, Mr. Whitlock." Askari wiped the rain from his middle aged face with the back of his hand. A silver wedding band on his ring finger reflected in the light.

"This is my son, Adil, and your next door neighbor Edgar Brandon." Askari's hands motioned to the men he just introduced behind him. Adil stood there behind him, not saying a word. Edgar stared at his house. Jasper examined each man. The one standing in front, Askari, seemed to be a married man or possibly widowed, he wore clothes consisting of a brown button up shirt with matching pants, his shoes were worn and covered in mud. Adil wore clothing of similar attire, but his shirt was a midnight blue color with black slacks with tattered ankles. Edgar was wearing a white dress shirt with black suspenders, his trousers were the same color as his suspenders, Jasper didn't bother to look at the man's shoes. Streaks of blood on the man's chest stood out more than anything.

Askari took a deep breath before speaking again. "We've heard you're a doctor, Mr. Whitlock, and we're so sorry to bother you but Mr. Brandon's daughter needs help." Edgar was staring at Jasper now, curious as Jasper was, why wouldn't the father of the daughter be asking for assistance, it didn't matter enough for him to ask. "I'm not a doctor." Jasper replied quickly, pulling his head out of the doorway as his hand began to shut the door. The light hand of Edgar forces its way between the crack before Jasper could close it, the door slammed against the man's hand but he never made a sound.

"I don't care what kind of doctor you are exactly. I have a mess going on upstairs in my house and I know you can help me with it." Edgar's voice carried over the rain. Jasper could feel the tension inside the mortal mans body, the way his hands clutched the doorway and how the pain didn't deter him from releasing his grip. Jasper opened his door slightly once more, with more persuasion in his tone, he spoke to the three men. "I'm no medical professional. If she's in dire need as you claim I suggest you seek one out." Jasper was about to shut his door again whether Edgar released his hand or not. The door was in motion, Edgar's hand stopped it once again, and a blood curdling scream was released.

Not by Edgar, no, the scream of a young woman. In unison the men's eyes shot towards the house, more specifically, the upstairs bedroom of the house. The window with bars within. Edgar let go of Jasper's doorway and ran down the sleek stairs, his shoes pounding in the mud as he ran for his house. Askari gasped in horror as he ran after Edgar. Adil was struck with sheer panic, he turned away from the house and looked Jasper directly in the eyes, as best he could from the darkness surrounding him in the doorway. "Please, sir! She won't make it through the night! Please!" Adil cried out, desperately searching for any sign of mercy from the stranger he met moments ago.

Jasper attempted to soothe the man's stress to no avail. Without feeding his emotional control was more of a suggestion than command. "I-" Jasper said softly, the man approached with his hands pressed together resembling the gesture for prayer. "Please come, if you can't help we can say you tried!" Adil remained still, his hands together, his stature resembling a painting with the rain gently falling behind him. Another scream emerged out of the dark night awaiting Jasper outside. Adil's eyes widened, he pleaded once more for Jasper to follow him back to the house. Jasper locked eyes with him, the anguish burning in him was flooded into Jasper. He opened the door wider and stepped out onto the porch.

The rain tickled against his skin. Adil turned around and stepped off to lead Jasper to the Brandon house, as they approached another scream came from upstairs. Adil rushed to the door and swung it open, reluctantly, Jasper followed suit. He clenched the end of his shirt into his fist, an overwhelming smell of blood hit him. Adil was rushing up the stairs ahead of Jasper, who was standing near the opened front door, trying to focus on the smell of rain. He closed it slowly, it was a heavy old door that creaked softly under the sounds of the weather it protected the Brandon's from.

Jasper took one step forward, his hand grasped the end of the staircase, the triangular accent was smooth. He kept his grip on it as he placed his foot on the first step. He heard the man, Edgar, shushing someone upstairs, he was saying something Jasper couldn't make out over the strained moaning that was growing louder as he approached. The downstairs portion of the Brandon house was dark and cold. A faint light upstairs illuminated the walls of the staircase. The u poo stairs bedroom where the light was coming from had the door cracked slightly, sounds of whispering and frantic tones were scattered over the rain tapping against the windows. A loud cry brought the whispers to gasps.

Jasper brushed his hand against the door, it opened without a sound. He clenched his hand tighter from what he saw. Askari and Adil were standing at the foot of a metal bed with white sheets. Edgar and a dark haired woman stood on opposite ends on the bed. Lying in it was a small framed girl with short dark hair, they were holding her down by her little wrists, they were subked into the sheets of the mattress from the amount of pressure they were applying. The girl held down was wearing a long white nightgown, possibly made of cotton, the bottom of her gown was stained with streaks of brown blood. She was staring desperately in the eyes of Mr. Brandon with small whimpers of discomfort.

Her legs were thrashing around wildly trying to break free from their hold. He saw the reason why blood was soaked into her gown. Her knees were bloody all over, still bleeding, he could smell the fresh blood. Jasper stepped inside the room slowly as if he wasn't supposed to be there, and for his own reasons, he shouldn't have been. His attempt at being quiet was ruined by the cracking of glass as he stepped in, he looked down to the floor and saw shattered porcelain from what appears to be a teacup. The handle was crushed to dust while large shards of the saucer lay defeated on the floor.

Everyone turned their heads to Jasper for a moment, their gaze lingered off to the corner of the room. Jasper's eyes followed their stare, a younger girl was standing in the corner of the room, her hands were limp at her sides but within them she was holding two formal ties. "Cynthia, I won't ask you again. Bring me the ties." Edgar sneered at the younger girl. She lingered for a moment in the corner before she reluctantly walked towards him with the ties in her hands. He snatched them out of her grasp quickly, handing the second one to the dark haired woman, they began to tie the girls hands to the bedpost. She struggled more with cries that were ignored. Her eyes shut tightly, her focus was intense, although on what is unknown.

"He can't breathe." She whispered softly, almost inaudible. She said it again with more concern. "He can't breathe." She turned to Edgar's face. He never looked at hers as he tied her wrists up. "Mary-Alice, be quiet." He said with no emotion. The girl turned her head to the unknown woman who stared back at her with pain in her eyes. "He's suffocating." The girl's voice was shaky, she was on the edge of tears. "Edgar . . ." The woman said while backing away from the girl slowly. Edgar looked to the woman, then at Jasper, who didn't dare take a step forward from where he stepped on broken porcelain. "Why have you tied her up?" The overwhelming fear from the girl was clouding his head.

Edgar motioned his hand to the woman for her to follow him, he and the woman walked over to Jasper. "Mr. Whitlock, this is my wife, Lillian." Lillian extended her hand for Jasper, he looked down at her hands, they were small and shaking. He accepted hers. "How do you do?" She asked him. Jasper could smell the sweetness of her perfume as they shook hands. "Just fine," he said. "And yourself?" Her hands fell back to her sides, she was fiddling with the ends of her dress. She didn't answer. She looked to Edgar for a response. "This is my youngest daughter, Cynthia." Edgar nodded his head towards the younger girl standing in the corner again.

Jasper looked at her out of the corner of his eye, she looked down immediately. "Why have you tied that girl up?" He asked again. Adil and Askari were still standing at the foot of the bed. Their heads hung low as they whispered in another language. "She's my daughter." Edgar said bluntly. "Mary-Alice," he continued. "There's something wrong with her. Our fine neighbors offered their help since the second they knew. They think she's possessed." Edgar's words sat heavy in the air. The low prayers continue on in the background. Jasper stared at the couple, their demeanor was strange.

"You have to help her." Lillian said softly. The desperation in her voice caused it to crack at the end. "I'm not a priest, I'm studying psychology." Jasper responded. He looked down at the floor, the broken teacup and the shards turned to dust, Mary-Alice lied still with her eyes shut tightly. "She's injured, I suggest you give her the help she needs." Jasper gave the couple a half smile, he turned their backs to him to exit the room. Edgar grabbed a hold of Jasper's shoulder with a heavy hand. Jasper turned his cheek to him, peering at him over his shoulder. He studied Edgar's face. It looked like he was about to say something.

Mary-Alice screamed. Adil and Askari prayed faster. Mary-Alice's screaming grew louder, sweat forming on her soft distressed features. She threw her hands up in the air trying to break free of her restraints. The leather belts were digging into her skin. "His lungs are burning!" She cried out, staring up at the ceiling. Lillian ran over to aid her daughter while Edgar took a step back. Jasper turned back to them, Lillian was holding Mary-Alice down by her shoulders. Adil turned to Jasper with wild eyes. "Please help!" He stepped towards Jasper.

Jasper wanted to turn his back on them, not because he was cold, but because he was feeling his grip on control loosening at the sight and scent of Mary-Alice's blood. Jasper's thirst was an undeniable pain inside of him. Would any sensible mortal man turn down helping another human, especially their neighbors? He knew he couldn't walk away, he had to be on good terms with them. They had to know he was trustworthy. They had to think so. Jasper threw his hands in the air, he went to the side of Mary-Alice. She was thrashing around like a fish out of water.

Mary-Alice's dark brown eyes fixated on Jasper. He knelt down beside her bed to get a closer look at her. "I think he's going to die." She said to him, her voice was strained from screaming. "He's pleading with them to let him go, let him live, but they're laughing at him." Tears formed in the corners of her tired eyes. Lillian released her hold on her daughter. Mary-Alice swallowed, continued to speak to Jasper. "He's being crushed by his own weight. The dust in his eyes stings. He's inhaling it, too, it's burning his lungs."

"Who, Mary-Alice?" Jasper asked her in a whisper. "Enough of this nonsense!" Edgar stepped forward. "None of this is real!" Mary-Alice turned her head away from Jasper, her flushed cheeks pressed against the white pillow beneath her. "I can't see his face." She mumbled. "I think he accepted he's going to die. I think he can feel it." Edgar moved in front of Jasper. "Listen to me, girl, you better knock it off." He scolded her.

Mary-Alice didn't look at him or respond. Her breathing was becoming unsteady and harsh. "Edgar, please, let Mr. Whitlock help her." Lillian pleaded to her husband, he glared at her with an intensity that radiated in his movements when he begrudgingly backed away. "My daughter sees things, Mr. Whitlock, she sees things that come true before they happen." Lillian brushed the loose hair out of her daughters eyes, she closed them again at her mother's touch.

"Not all of them . . ." Cynthia chimed in from the corner. "Sometimes none of it happens." The blood from Mary-Alice's knees was staining the sheets. She was squeezing her legs shut, her wrists were still trying to break free from her restraints. She began to scream again. "Let him out! Let him out!" She kicked her legs around, it startled Lillian, who attempted to force her down again. Mary-Alice's hands were banging against the headboard hard enough to make her knuckles bleed.

Edgar ran over quickly to help his wife hold her down again, the more they tried to keep her still the harder she fought to move and break free. Adil and Askari took a few steps back from the bed.It was shaking and squeaking relentlessly from her thrashing. "Please, help her!" Adil begged once more. Jasper stood up fast. "Get your hands off of her! Untie her! Now!" Edgar scoffed at Jasper's demands, he continued to hold her down. "She's my daughter and I know what's best for her!"

Jasper pulled Edgar off of Mary-Alice with one hand, Edgar turned around quickly with his hand clenched into a fist, it looked like he was about to strike Jasper for putting his hands on him. "Listen to me, now!" Jasper's voice was louder than anything they ever heard. Everyone in the room froze except Mary-Alice. "You knocked on my door in the dead of night asking for my help. You swallowed your pride then so you best keep it down now. Are we clear?"

Anger ran through Edgar's veins, this stranger correcting him, commanding him, and questioning his masculinity in his own home gave him the eyes of a hungry wolf wanting to sink its teeth into prey. Jasper stared down at Edgar, he saw the red in Edgar, the sheer anger directed at no one in particular. Jasper concentrated on his eyes, his pupils constricting, the hues of brown and the reflection of the light from the bedside lamp. Jasper eased him the best he could.

He let go of Edgar suddenly, he almost fell to the side but he picked himself up quickly. "Lillian, remove your hands from her. Untie her." Jasper was already standing near Mary-Alice's bed again. His fingers delicately touched the harsh knots of the ties, he slowly loosened the knots. He didn't want to harm her already irritated skin. The blood on her knuckles was already dried. Lillian did as Jasper told her, she took her hands off her shoulders and started to until her other wrist.

Mary-Alice's hands were free now, she continued to lie down on her bed. She placed both hands over her eyes, her mouth slightly open as she sighed shakily. "Adil, Askari, Edgar, whoever the hell is in this room, get me some paper and a pencil." Jasper waved his hand in the direction of the men, he never directed his eyes to anyone in particular. Adil nodded eagerly and rushed out of the room. His footsteps on the stairs were frantic. Jasper placed the back of his hand against Mary-Alice's cheek, he turned her head towards him. "How are you feeling?" He asked her softly.

The dark circles under her eyes complimented her brown eyes in a sadistic way. Mary-Alice parted her lips to speak but no words came out. Jasper looked around the room and spotted a small wooden stool, he grabbed it and dragged it to the edge of the bed. Adil walked into the room with a notepad and a worn wooden pencil as Jasper sat down on the stool. Jasper motioned for Adil to give him the items, which he eagerly did so. The notepad was placed without care on his lap. "I need you all to leave the room." He nodded up at Lillian, then at Edgar. "Not going to happen." Edgar replied bluntly. Lillian was already walking away from the bed towards her husband. Jasper peered over his shoulder at him with wondering eyes on his weathered face.

"If you want me to help Mary-Alice I need to speak with her without distractions or interruptions. You may stand outside the door if you desire." Jasper was flipping through the notepad for a fresh piece of paper to use. He could feel the annoyance seething from her father without even looking at him. He was reading him all to well now. He never saw them leaving the room, he was too focused on this helpless and tired looking girl he only ever saw the outline of the night before. She was breathing steady now in short breaths, her poor white nightgown was now a cloudy gray from her sweat and brown from the blood. "Mary-Alice," Jasper was already using the pencil on the paper. "My name is Jasper. Your father came over asking for my assistance. He wanted me to talk to you, he thinks you could use it."

He heard her shuffling around in her bed, perhaps she was sitting up or leaning away from him. She didn't acknowledge his introduction or protest it. "I heard them call you that. It is your name, correct?" He took his eyes off the paper and saw her sitting there with her bloodied knees drawn to her small chest. She stared down at the sheets in a complete haze. Mary-Alice nodded softly. "My name is Mary..." her eyes trailed off to her toes. "My middle name is Alice. You can call me Alice, if you'd like." Jasper let out a small hum before asking more questions. "Who was the man you were talking about, Alice?" She hugged her knees closer to herself.

"I don't know." She said softly. "I can't see his face."

"How do you know him?" Jasper asked.

"I don't know him." Alice replied.

Jasper sat up in his stool, his free hand resting under the notepad for stability while his other was using the pencil to dance along the yellow paper. "When have you seen him?" Jasper stared at her, she shifted under his gaze. Her fear was still present but less intense now. "Just now." She whispered. "I see his body, I see through his eyes, I see through the eyes of his captors... I see it all like I'm right there." Alice pulled her dress down tight over her knees. Jasper had almost forgotten about the blood since it dried and ceased to bleed. "What happened to your knees, Alice?" She tilted her head to the side at his question.

Alice was surprised he stopped asking about the man so easily, instead, he pulled her into the closest sense of reality. Alice brushed her hand over her knees, she winced softly at the touch. Her dress moved up enough to expose them again, she saw tiny shards of glass in her skin. The stinging didn't start again until she noticed. "I dropped a tea cup . . . how easily they break . . ." Alice's nimble fingers tried to pick out the shards with her short fingernails. The rain outside was pouring down harder now, the light sprinkling on the window turned into a rhythm of serenity. "Porcelain is as delicate as it is beautiful." Jasper continued to look down at the notepad.

"You may need to use tweezers but it seems to be a surface wound, you should be fine after cleaning it." Jasper let out a shallow sigh, the thirst inside of him beginning to burn his throat. He cleared it quickly. "I want to know more about the man." Alice was staring down again, mindlessly trying to remove the glass. "I was having my nightly tea with Cynthia. I have it every night before bed. It helps me fall asleep." She picked out fragments of porcelain stained red. "I took a sip and I saw him. They were throwing him inside of something, I don't know what it was. He was covered in blood but it wasn't his own. He was screaming . . . and crying. Their laughter was . . . like an animal."

Alice was placing the porcelain into the lap of her dress. "He was trapped . . . it was too small for him, wherever he was, he couldn't see and his body ached all over. He only had a slither of light to look through. He saw flames, they were abandoning the flames. He saw the night sky. Every star was a witness." Her eyes closed, her hand trickled the air in fairy like movements. "The laughter . . . the laughter is what scares me. I dropped my teacup." Jasper heard enough. He tore off the paper from the notepad and crumpled it up quickly, he shoved it into the pocket of his trousers. He set the items down on the nightstand.

"Have you had any other instances like this before, Alice?" He saw her eyes open like she was startled. "Yes, many times, last time my-" Thunder struck down onto the earth with a deafening roar. The door swung open hard, hitting the wall as it was thrown. Edgar walked into the room and stood before Alice's bed. "Enough of this." He looked to Jasper with his lips pressed together. Jasper stood up quickly with his hands in his pockets. "It's late. Your mother made another pot of tea downstairs. Drink then go to bed." Edgar's eyes were shooting daggers into Alice, she didn't make eye contact with her father as she scurried off the bed like a frightened mouse.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Whitlock, I was telling them . . . our lovely neighbors, bothering you, is a waste of everyone's time." Edgar held out his hand for Jasper to shake it. Jasper waited a moment before accepting his offer. "I'm not much help, I do apologize. Good luck with your daughter, Mr. Brandon." Jasper tried to let go of his hand and walk beside him, but Edgar tightened his grip on him. "What did she tell you?" Edgar's eyes narrowed onto Jasper's. Jasper yanked his hand out of Edgar's. "You were outside the door. I'm sure you heard it all." Jasper sidestepped him. Edgar placed his hands on his hip while he examined the mess of the room.

Adil, Askari, and Lillian could be heard talking downstairs. Jasper's head was starting to feel dizzy, his fingertips were slowly becoming numb. "Mr. Whitlock! May I offer you a hot beverage? It's a savior from the rain!" Lillian was holding a glass pot in her hand. Adil and Askari were sitting on their satin couch, Alice was on the floor with her cup on the coffee table. Cynthia was standing in the doorway watching Jasper's descend down the stairs. "No, thank you, I appreciate your offer. I have to be going now." He smiled at her, she was feeling better about everything but the concern was still inside of her.

Adil quickly sat up and ran over to Jasper before he met the front door. "Mr. Whitlock?" He whispered urgently. "The girl needs no help, she's gifted!" Jasper stared at the young man, his eyes were bewildered orbs of earth brown color darting back and forth between Jasper's own brown eyes. "Believe me, she is a gift." Adil said again in hushed tones. "The family is frightened but she is no threat." Jasper was groggier now from the thirst, he rubbed his eyes tiredly with his cold hand. "Yeah, yeah, she's not a threat to a fly." Jasper grabbed onto the door brass door handle, he opened the front door, as he was about to step outside, Adil leaned into his ear.

"The girl is a miracle. I've seen it before, a real miracle." Jasper nodded to him, he walked outside of the house, the element of the rain overwhelming his senses once again. The smell of fresh brewed tea no longer lingered in the air, blood was non existent now, and the fear and confusion from the Brandon's, Adil, and Askari were washing away now in the bitter fragrance of the stormy wind. "Have a wonderful night, Adil, tell your father and Mrs. Brandon the same." Adil's mouth broke out into a smile of relief. Jasper turned away from them, the house, and stepped off of the porch.

The thirst was causing his knees to become weaker, intrusive thoughts of feeding on the young girl were plaguing his mind from the madness hunger brings on eventually. It wasn't an option. He couldn't feed on her. He couldn't dare think of it. Jasper forced his thoughts out of his mind, his cold breath in the air swirled around like temptation. It was these little things that reminded him of what it was like to be alive. When he wasn't a puppet controlled by a thirst so unbearable the only way to cure it was consuming the blood of living beings.

His head was clouded, his heart faintly beating in his chest. So much had happened in such a short amount of time to fully comprehend with the gnawing inside of him. Jasper walked away from the Brandon household, past his own home, and down the street heading into town so fate could decide which vulnerable soul took a turn down the wrong path of life tonight.


End file.
